Ghost
by WordArtisan
Summary: Prologue enclosed, it'll explain a lot hopefully . Movieverse. IN THE PROCESS OF FIXING CHAPTERS, THIS MIGHT GET A LITTLE CHOPPY. Suggestions for a better title welcome. Jesslie.
1. Prologue

Prologue

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Okay, jumping across the river, not the best idea…I could only imagine the trauma I was putting my parents through. And how was Jess going to take it?

"Leslie Burke? He's ready to see you."

I must admit, this wasn't what I thought dying would be like: sitting in a waiting room, sopping wet with no one to talk to. Well, I guess life…or afterlife…is full of surprises.

This room's only color was gold, and it was giving off such a glare that the room didn't have any lights. I just stood at the back of the room; the last thing I wanted to do was do more sitting after an hour in the waiting room.

"Okay. I've already read your dossier. I just need to get this straight." God spun around in his gold leather armchair.

"Draw any conclusions yet?" I asked.

"We need to talk this over before I can do that, but I've got a general idea," He replied. "So…according to this, you"—he looked down at the folder in his hands—"drowned?"

"Yeah," I retorted, trying to peel my jean jacket off. "I'm sorry, but I really don't want to be here." Wait a second. "Where am I?"

"This is the stage between life and death when I decide where to put you: heaven, hell, or purgatory. Just have a seat and answer the questions."

I sat, hanging my jean jacket up on the back of the chair. "Okay, go on."

He flipped through the massive dossier and stopped on the first page. "Tell me a little bit about yourself."

"Um…well, there's not that much to tell, really…"

"Oh, please. I've already read about what you did for everybody on page"—more flipping—"32."

"Huh? Okay, I have a question—how did you guys assemble a dossier in that much detail?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Alright, next question…"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The dossier was so big that you couldn't fit it in a recycling bin, and we scanned every inch of it that you could pack in a folder.

"Okay, I think I have enough," He said, closing the folder.

"Where am I going, then?" I asked, feeling too tired and sluggish for words.

"I'm going to send you back as a ghost."

"What?" I said.

"You heard me. I'm going to send you back to Earth as a spirit so you can still be with everyone and keep an eye on everyone."

"But you can't just send me back as a freaky ghost girl, it's too weird and science-fiction," I reasoned. "Can you just send me to heaven or hell like everybody else?"

"I've already made up my mind, sorry," He said. "Bye," he added.

I landed with a CLUNK on the forest ground, totally ticked. "You could've at least given me my jacket!" I screamed. Next thing I knew, a big wet heap of denim landed on my head. Of course.

This is where running off at 7 in the morning had gotten me: dead, and the mascot for a childhood fear. Well, I wasn't just going to sit on the sidelines, no sir. This is my story.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_A/N: Uh…hi. I started work on this plotline when I was 9, right after I read the book, so please don't tell me that it's been done like this before. It seems pretty typical right now, but it has an unexpected twist. I don't think it's been done quite like this before. Also, please don't flame me—be constructive in your criticism. A few cons about the book: has a few foul words, and maybe one bathroom joke. As for the Christian refs above, I only put them in so that the plotline makes a little more sense. I am a Christian, but I don't think there'll be any more refs. Please R&R, and suggestions and questions are welcome. _

_WordArtisan _


	2. Two Years Later

_A/N: I'm trying to write longer chapters. Please tell me if this fixes my writing problems, and give me feedback on the storyline. I think I left the wrong impression when I said 'unexpected twist'. I meant that the twist takes place in later chapters, not in the prologue. Hope that clears things up. _

_One last thing: I have a question at Silverterror's review: is that freaky/good or freaky/bad? It's not a darkfic, guaranteed—more mystical. And also I wanted to say that when Leslie said 'no one to talk to', she meant that the waiting room was packed but nobody was talking. But still, since it says that it took hours to read over the dossier, it might have indeed been smarter to have her meet with an angel. _

_I have to stop writing such long A/N's._

_-WordArtisan-_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_It'd be risky…but it just might work…_

I hovered over the little blue Tudor-style house. I knew something was going to happen in the next few days: I guess you could say I could see dead people.

What put that idea in my head, anyway? Maybe being out here, watching but never being able to actually do. Well, there was absolutely no way I could do that, it just wasn't possible.

I floated back towards the forest. _I mean, not like I don't want to be with Jess, but it'd be too weird and awkward. And he still comes to talk sometimes. _Back in eighth grade, he'd come to talk to an 'imaginary' spirit about his problems, but high school had pretty much destroyed that, except for a few select times.

The forest looked like it always did: dark, damp, and a little mysterious. _I don't know…this whole thing is a complicated mess…_ That spot where I'd knocked myself unconscious hurt profoundly. I rubbed it wryly, found a spot on the ground that wasn't too stiffening, and shut my eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Excuse me? How much is this to rent?"

"Oh. That's twenty percent off."

Jess blinked. "Yeah, but how much does it cost?"

"You can only get the discount with a Preferred Customer card." The employee went back to stacking some of the movies that'd been knocked off the shelves.

"But you still haven't told me the price," he said, rolling his eyes. The employee he was talking to walked behind the counter.

"Give it to me. I'll scan it." She ran it over the laser and handed it back to him. "$4.13," she added.

"Thanks," he said, headed back towards the shelves.

"That's _with _the discount," called the clerk. Jess crossed his arms.

"Can you just tell me the dern price?" he called back, annoyed.

"I'd have to scan it again."

Jess sighed. "Fine." He slid it across the counter.

"$4.13. Do you have a Preferred Customer card?"

"No. I'll just pay with a credit card."

"Oh, we don't take credit cards," she said, pushing her glasses further up on her nose.

"Alright then…" Jess pulled out his wallet and started shuffling through some bills and pulling out coins. "Three…four…eleven, twelve, thirteen." He put a big heap of money down on the counter. The cashier raised her eyebrows. Jess snatched up his DVD and left.

It was his turn to rent a movie for movie night. Things were going well for him and Kelly; well, pretty well.

She was your typical popular kid: she was wealthy, she was a cheerleader, in the lead for homecoming queen, and wore only the latest state-of-the-art fashions.

They'd been set up on a blind date by Jess's mom, gotten along pretty well, and became an item. They watched movies on Fridays, and studied together on Tuesdays, when Kelly didn't have a party or something to go to. She was about the only person Jess trusted nowadays, though: he seemed really wary about who he got attached to, and avoided most of the other kids. He figured that if he didn't get attached to people, it wouldn't cause him pain if something happened to them.

He'd been having some controversy with Kelly lately: disagreements, quibbles, the works. They really weren't compatible with each other—their personalities were too different to get along too well.

Jess and a group of Kelly's popular friends were throwing her a surprise fifteenth birthday party that Saturday at the mall. He'd been shopping for a birthday gift all day, and had had zero success; of course, he had a lot to live up to compared to the fabulous gifts her other rich friends were getting her: fine jewelry, designer clothes, and even though she wasn't old enough to actually drive the thing, a Ferrari.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Why don't you take me rollerblading anymore?"

"What brought that up?"

"Well, Ming and Karen and I go rollerblading all the time. And Hanna and her boyfriend go rollerblading. Why don't we?"

"Because I'm too busy."

"You're not too busy for movie night."

"That's one of the things I'm busy with." Jess sighed. "I'm going to go make some more popcorn."

"Butter, please," called Kelly.

"We're out of butter, you just ate the last of it."

"I don't like anything without butter on it."

Jess rolled his eyes. "Well, then you don't have to eat it."

See what I mean by 'quibbles'? I'd just looked in the window on my way back to the forest, and they'd already gotten into an argument.

Jess seemed really depressed lately—almost everything annoyed him, and when it didn't annoy him, it made him angry. He went to bed earlier than usual, and woke up later than usual. I was beginning to seriously consider the plan I'd hatched a couple of nights before—but I was really doubtful that it'd actually work. Dawn would die the next day, so I'd have to decide pretty soon.

_I'll sleep on it._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o


	3. A Very Awkward Situation

_A/N: Thanks to Mark R. Whitten and freelke for reviewing. As to the price of the DVD for rent, I threw chapter 1 together at eleven last night and it was originally for purchase. That goes with the 'ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven' mistake—the original price was a whole dollar, but the new price was $21.57, not $21.97. Thanks for the nice review, freelke—gave me a huge confidence boost!_

_There's a flashback (italics with quotations) in this chapter. It's one of the larger chapters in the story, both in events and in writing style. I feel as though my first person is improving. Also, I might not get the quotes right, because I haven't read the book since I was nine and haven't seen the movie in a year—I tried Wikipedia, but didn't get much out of it. The flashback might be a little confusing—it's a mixture of quotes, some of them are Leslie and some are Jess, and the only reason Leslie knows what Jess said after she died is because she was a ghost. This whole chapter might be little confusing, but it clears up the 'Dawn' that Leslie was talking about in the last chapter._

_-WordArtisan-_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I was sort of surprised that the stuff in our old treehouse was still in decent condition after two years—for that matter, with the back wall completely blown to smithereens from weather, I was surprised the treehouse was still standing. Jess used to bring May Belle, but, again, blitzed by high school. Everything in the treehouse was left exactly the way it was the day I died, in fact, it was a little too organized to have been completely left alone.

"_**Take a picture. It'll last longer."**_

"_**No—you're lying!"**_

I sat down on the windowpane, looking around. Sometimes I liked to come up here in the morning; but all the old drawings were sort of painful for me.

"_**I can take it back and get a cheaper one, if you like."**_

"_**Um…I don't **_**have **_**a television…"**_

I paced around the treehouse, making the old floor creak. Dawn was going to die in five minutes. Jess's face kept popping into my head—after the race, giving me P.T., crying after my funeral.

"_**Close your eyes, but keep your mind wide open."**_

I drummed my fingers against the pale, faded wood of the wall I was leaning on, hand on my hip. My head hurt. 

"_**I think we should take Leslie along next time. She'd like that."**_

I'd made my decision: I was going to do what I'd planned a couple of nights ago, and it'd take some more kind of force to change my mind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I hovered over Dawn's pale, lifeless body. It hadn't been any ordinary death—it'd been a murder. I'd gotten there just in time to watch the man throw Dawn on the floor, rip the door off its hinges in an attempt to get away faster, and bound down the stairs. 

She was there on the ground, spread-eagled, clutching at her throat. This wasn't what I'd expected her death to be: strangulation at the dirty hands of some jailbird. Murders like this make me sick. 

I heard the door slam down the stairs. _"Dawn? Are you upstairs?"_

I looked down at Dawn again. I'd never tried to overshadow someone before…this could fail miserably…

"_I'm coming up."_

I took a deep breath, and dove into the body on the floor.

Everything felt heavier than usual, compared to being basically air for the last two years. I opened my eyes, looking straight up at the smooth white ceiling. I sat up, rigid, looking at my hand with popping eyes. I'd done it.

The house was extremely old. Older than my old house. The paint peeled, and the door was hanging by a thread before that creep had knocked it off of its hinges. There was probably a weight limit for it.

I heard footsteps behind me on the hardwood. "Oh…my…" There was a woman in the door, about thirty, with her long brown curls up in a tight bun, wearing a black skirtsuit with brown paper grocery bags in her arms. She looked down at the door lying on the ground, shell-shocked. "What did you do?" she demanded, weak-voiced with surprise.

"Um…it fell when I tried to open it," I replied, in Dawn's voice. _Oh man. She won't buy that for a second._

"Hmmm…it's possible," said the woman, looking down at it. "But try to be more careful next time, okay?" With a slightly suspicious glance, she left. I wiped my forehead, dragging myself to my feet.

I had a pretty good idea of Dawn's friends and family, personality, electives, and stuff like that from watching her. She lived on the other side of the forest, and went to a different high school than Jess—she was free every day except Friday and Wednesday, and didn't have a whole bunch of friends to miss her at parties. She was perfect for the job. That's why I'd picked her. Looked like I was good to go.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I pressed myself to the back of one of the tree trunks, holding my breath. If he saw me right now…well, you what they say about first impressions, and being found hiding behind a tree in the forest with no explanation doesn't look so good.

I glanced over my shoulder. All clear. I took a step, and crushed a leaf loudly.

"What? Who's there?"

Oh boy.

Jess's footsteps were coming this way. I straightened up and took a few steps away from the tree, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible.

Jess peered around the tree trunk, brows furrowed. There I was, waving, hands behind my back. He raised an eyebrow. "Hi," I said.

"Hi…?" he echoed suspiciously. "Um, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Dawn," I replied, smiling, sticking out a hand. He shook it awkwardly.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, Dawn, but what are you doing here, anyways?"

"Just walking."

"That's funny…never noticed you before…"

"Well, I've always been here," I said, laughing nervously. Jess raised his eyebrows again, turned his back, and started walking towards the lake.

"What're you doing?" I called, unwisely.

"Nothing." He sounded annoyed and embarrassed, in that same pushy tone that someone uses when they get really fed up with another person.

"Well, bye," I said uncomfortably, turning to leave. It was going to take more than that to get me to give up. I'd spent a good week on it in seventh grade, and I'd do it again.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o


	4. Of Dance Classes and Bus Rides

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_A/N: A few things to clarify: when she says, 'That's it! I've got it!', she means that she flew, she didn't run all the way there or anything. And the scene on the bus may seem familiar. I did that on purpose._

_This chapter probably won't be the best. I threw it together, because this is a vital piece of the puzzle. I am stretched to my limits with all the other stories I have going right now, so I won't be able to update as often as I was. Sorry._

_-WordArtisan-_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"C'mon! You're two hours late!"

"Hmmm?"

"You slept in! You have dance class in fifteen minutes! C'mon, let's go!" Dawn's mother looked frantic. I yawned, half-asleep, feeling like I might lose consciousness.

_Who holds dance class at six in the morning on a Sunday? _I thought. She grabbed my arm and jerked me out of bed. Apparently she was really concerned about punctuality.

I shut myself in Dawn's walk-in closet to change while Mrs. Monroe chanted 'Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up' while she stared at her wristwatch. I wondered how many other morning classes Dawn had.

Mrs. Monroe shoved a duffle bag at me. "Everything you need is in here," she panted. "Go! Run!" She gave me a push out the bedroom door and ran down the hall.

I slammed the front door behind me and slung the bag over my shoulder. If I was in my own body, I probably could've made it in ten minutes. But Dawn wasn't a very fast runner.

_That's it! I've got it!_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I bounded up the stairway of the only dance school in town as fast as possible with Dawn's body still slung over my shoulder. It was probably a good thing I was late—that way, nobody was in the hall to see the ghost of the girl that'd died two years ago carrying a body to a dance class.

Piano music boomed from two stories above me. I stopped for a second to catch my breath, and then kicked off again. Dawn was heavier than she looked.

I stopped down the hall from the door, dove back into the body, grabbed up the duffle bag, and set of at a mad sprint for the door.

"You're late, Miss Monroe," snarled a woman of about twenty-eight, standing at the other end of the room in a sweatsuit with her arms crossed.

I was already doubled over, braced with my hands on my knees, panting, with the bag dangling from my elbow. "Sorry—got delayed—" I gasped.

"Well, a good ballerina is always on time," barked the teacher. "To the barre."

I plopped my bag down in a chair and walked over to my left. People were snickering at me. It was like the beginning of seventh grade all over again. I hadn't had time to change into the dance costume in my bag, so I was still in my tank top and sweatpants.

I saw a familiar redheaded girl laughing with her friends standing beside me at the bar. "Hey," I said.

Kelly turned her head, looked me up and down, and said, "Hello, _Dawn_. Might I say you're looking particularly _pathetic _today?" Then she smirked, and giggled at her own wit. "You think you've got what it takes to make it through advanced class with a halfway-decent grade? We'll see about that," she added, maybe sounding a little more jealous than nasty.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The city bus pulled up next to the stop. The driver opened the doors, looking like he was about to nod off, and jammed his thumb towards the seats. I walked forward.

"Pay," he said. I handed him my money. "Sit," he added, not wasting words or energy.

I plopped down in one of the seats.

There was a good fifteen-minute pause. I leaned my head against the window and stared at the scenery flying past, drumming my fingers against the area of bench beside me. Dance class—or really, being yelled at fluently by the teacher—had been exhausting. I heard Jess mumbling something in the seat in front of me, but I couldn't understand whatever he was saying.

I tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey."

He jumped. "Hi…" he said. "You're that girl I saw yesterday, right?" he added after a few minutes.

I wiggled my fingers in a kind of half-wave, rummaging around in my pocket. "Gum?"

"Sure, I guess…" he said, brows furrowed, taking it.

"I never caught your name," I continued.

"Jesse Aarons." He popped the gum in his mouth and flicked the wrapper down on the floor. He turned back around and started mumbling again. I got the distinct impression that he was trying to end the conversation.

The bus screeched to a stop. I followed him out, trying to spot him through the sea of people.

"See you around," I called, once the crowd had pretty much dispersed outside. He nodded, and walked away. Even though my plan was going far from perfectly, I was definitely getting somewhere.

As I turned to leave, I frowned, feeling like I wanted to slap my forehead. I'd been way too much like Leslie. Ah, well. What's done is done. Besides, I hadn't been _too _similar…had I?


End file.
